Haunt the Novice
by Tristana
Summary: After Malik's and Maria's death, Altair flees Masyaf to avoid being caught. Stopping at night, he encounters the last person he expected, and finds solace in a banter he knows is only fleeting. Spoilers for Boyden's book.


Written for Kinkmeme (Part 4 page 26, if you must know.)  
Anon requested 'happy, sad, crack, whatever goes' based on this picture: art/AC-I-m-right-here-Part-1-297016433

I tried to make it lighter at the end, because plain ol' angst would have been too easy - and Malik's snarky personality wins anyway.

Warning: Spoiler for 'The Secret Crusade' - if you haven't read it, just don't go further, I will not be mauled because I didn't warn you guys.  
Character death, though technically, he is already.

There is no slash in it, though there are undertones, if you squint and pay close attention to the phrasing.

* * *

It had been a shock. All of it. Falling onto him like stones in an empty well – echoing, tumbling and crashing mercilessly down, crushing whatever might have existed prior. So many deaths, and for what? Power. And to power he lost his son... his wife, Maria... Malik. The mere thought was enough to make him clutch his chest. Age and distance had never meant anything, and so much at the same time as now. Even now, in the deserted mountains, running from Masyaf, even though he should not be the one hiding, even now he remembered him. As trainees, and later, when they got their whites robes. He had never told Malik, but secretly, he was glad he was there. Even after his disgrace and despite the harsh words dealt to him, he knew that somehow, Malik had cared. Leaving Masyaf had been a mistake. Leaving Sef had been a mistake. If only Malik had managed to protect him – but again, Malik was not a young man anymore himself, and deadly as he was, what is it he could have done against shadows? Nothing. No man can kill a shadow if he doesn't know it's there. Leaning against the rocky side of the mountain, Altair looked up to the sky. Stars littering the night and made it seem as though it was day. He had rarely paused to look at the sky, the last time felt like so long ago. So distant...

_"You are, and will forever be a novice to me, even now that you are the Grand Master." It was not said in scorn, but more like a warning – a promise never to let him get head over heels with power._

_"I know. And I thank you."_

_"Don't thank me, Altair. You are still an idiot."_

_"And I hope you'll keep reminding me when I'll become an insufferable old geezer."_

_"You are already insufferable, I only have to pray you'll know by yourself when you'll be an old geezer." For all he said, Altair saw Malik smile. And that smile was enough for him. Enough to get him through the problems caused by Al-Mualim's death and Abbas's underhanded tactics to undermine him._

_"Trust me, Malik."_

_"Sometimes I wonder why, but I do. My friend."_

"I can't leave you alone, can I? I'm gone for less than an hour and I already have you moping. Now, you truly are an old geezer!"

That voice would have made him jump to his feet in seconds. Instead, Altair simply opened eyes he had not known he had closed. And just stared. There he was, as he remembered him best. Not as the old, half-dead man he had gotten out of jail. Not the broken man who seemed so close to die, of grief and guilt. Simply the Dai of Jerusalem, probably the youngest of all and still the only one who would hand his ass over to him in minutes. Altair had to smile.

"Glad to see you still know who's the master, novice." And with that, he just plopped next to Altair, not looking at him, instead enjoying the starlight.

"Malik."

"Hum." Altair wanted to touch him, take him in arms, tell him how sorry he was for all that happened, for having been a fool. For having taken so long to realize that he needed him more than anything in this world. His anchor.

"You are not here."

"Of course I am, you oaf. Why would you think I'd bother with you otherwise?" That smile again. The one that meant the contrary. Right then, Malik turned to look at him with his sharp, dark eyes. These eyes that saw through lies, and yet could not guard him long enough. "There is no reason for you to weep like a woman. What happened, happened. You are not responsible for Abbas's stupidity. However, I will haunt you forever if you don't teach him a lesson in kind."

"I thought you were against such... barbarian notions."

"You can't expect me to care after that."

"I know." He dropped his head, looking at his hands sitting idle in his lap. Hands that have more killed than healed, hands of a fighter, now old and weary. But he will never rest. He will not rest until Abbas would have paid – and then he would hide that Piece of Eden. And then...

"I will wait for you, Altair." And with that, Malik got up, graceful as ever. It was something Altair had often marvelled at – where other men would have acted like cripples after enduring such pains, Malik was a living embodiment of his own name. On a whim, he extended a hand towards him, as though to touch him. He thought that he felt it, for a fleeting moment. The strength, the warmth of Malik's hand on his, a reminder. And then he went, his form growing fainter as he went.

He would have wept, had he had tears to shed. But he had none, the desert had taken hold of him. iI'll keep haunting your steps, novice. Someone has to watch over you, otherwise you'll just end up falling asleep on your own sword./i

Yes, Malik would be here. He was too stubborn to let go – the thought brought a smile to Altair's face. The man would never let him rest until all is over and done. And perhaps he could live with that for a while. He will make his friend proud, though he had no idea where that came from. But he would prove himself worthy of Malik's trust. In death as he did not in life.

_I am already, though you never heard me saying it._

_I would have hated for your ego to grow so much you would have had to enlarge doors._


End file.
